I know we all have those photos saved to our Pinterest boards – the elusive collector’s items, the seemingly unattainable vintage. More often than not, I’ll have a photo saved of a vintage piece, and then will inevitably see it appear a few weeks later on some of my fellow vintage huntresses. And all I can do is hope that one day it will be released back into the wild…
I feel like it was only about two days ago I was bemoaning the start of the new semester. Like most of my colleagues (and profs in solidarity worldwide), I felt burnt out before it even began. And suddenly I blinked and found myself on the threshold to October. I guess if there’s one thing you can count on, it’s that time chuggs steadily and relentlessly forward to the next station, whether we like it or not.
You know when you see someone – either while scrolling IG or walking past you in the street – and they’re wearing something that stops you in your tracks? Where you can almost feel yourself start to salivate and it’s taking everything in your being not to chase them down and demand to know where they got it? I mean, I’m sure we’ve all experienced that special sartorial greener-pastures lust, where you truly believe for a minute that life would be perfect if only you could find that garment. Yeah well, what happens if the woman in question you’ve walked…
There is always a certain time of year that feels a bit like the eye of the storm. While summers are supposed to be relaxing, mine was chock full of book chapters and editing and teaching a summer class that nearly did my head in (but I can’t even ask you to feel sorry for me…it was all totally self-inflicted). Grades for the summer class were submitted last week and our fall semester doesn’t start until next week. So, for today at least, there is an eerie, blissful calm on the surface of the water…
When I was young, my sister and I would go away to camp every summer for a week of morning calisthenics, capture the flag, and (to this day) some of the best food I’ve ever eaten (I think food just tastes better outdoors). This one summer, my sister was assigned to be counselor for the same cabin I was assigned to. And, while you might think chaos would ensue, I think it was one of the most magical weeks of camp I could ever remember. We had that perfect combination of people bunking up to our cabin, where everyone got…
Have you ever noticed that it’s human nature to be drawn to things that are bad for you? Be it an ex-boyfriend, a bad habit, a vow after a particularly raucous night to “never drink again,” only to find yourself woohooing on the dance floor a week later. Despite seeing many who have flown to their fiery doom before her, the moth simply can’t ignore the allure of that bright, magical flame beckoning her to a promise of intrigue and light (and occasional debauchery).
One of the reasons why I love vintage so much is because I feel like, in many ways, it finds me. Although I am always on the hunt, finding the perfect dress in the perfect moment never feels like an accident. Rather, it always seems fated that we would meet. Like I was somehow cherry picked from the crowd to be her temporary guardian, before she gently passes to the next chapter of her story.
I’ve always been a huge fab of florals – giant rose border prints, floral appliqué, vines snaking up a bodice. I want it all. So it’s only natural for me to drool all over uniquely floral pieces from vintage past, particularly those that have dotted my Pinterest wishlist for years.
During quarantine, I think it’s safe to say a lot of us have taken to our creature comforts. My weakness has always been wine – I love coming home from a long day to a beautiful glass of cab sauv, kicking off my heels and sharing my day with my Mister. Now that we’re home all day, there are no shoes to kick off and Mr. D already knows the happs because…well…he was there. But, there is still that perfect glass of wine….
When I was little, one of my favorite books was The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. If you’ve never read it, it’s a story about a boy and a tree who are the best of friends. As the boy gets older, he spends less and less time with the tree, only to return at subsequent intervals to lament his life and seek happiness. The tree gives and gives of herself to the boy…from her apples, to her branches, leaving nothing but a stump at the end for the boy to sit on. But, with each gift, it ends with the…